Surprisingly Perceptive
by LimeFlamingo
Summary: Alone in the loft with Mr. and Mrs. Ford, Eliot proves to be far more perceptive than the team gives him credit for. Nate/Sophie pairing, with lots of Eliot&Sophie's clever, bickering friendship. Set post Season 5, slightly AU.
1. Chapter 1

_Alone in the loft with Mr. and Mrs. Ford, Eliot proves he is far more perceptive than the team gives him credit for. Nate/Sophie, Eliot-Sophie friendship-centric. Set post Season 5, slightly AU. _

_I don't own the characters, just like to play with them._

Eliot Spencer had been eyeing Sophie Devereaux-Ford all day. She had caught his eye on the morning of this lazy Thursday at Leverage HQ as she descended the spiral staircase to the main floor with an unusual air of caution. His gaze had followed her from the couch to the kitchen to the dinner table and back again. She had made 6 trips to the bathroom, drank a lot of water and eaten almost nothing. She had made it a point to stay far from her husband, the mastermind, who had not moved from his seat by the window; his only companion a bottle of scotch. Finally, Eliot heard Nate mutter something and watched as he disappeared upstairs. Not knowing how long his window alone with her would last, Eliot jumped up from his chair and placed himself on the coffee table next to Sophie's reclining feet. He faced her on the couch.

"Can I help you?" She asked, an eyebrow raised.

Eliot looked her over, noting the tension in her jaw and the snake like way her arms encircled her stomach. There had been some obvious changes to their lives since Sophie had announced she was expecting, but Eliot had been surprised to find how the news had made him more keenly aware of her safety. Sure, he had also noticed the new fullness in her body, particularly her breasts (I mean he was still a man, for crying out loud,) but mostly he took unintended mental notes of whether or not she had eaten enough that day, how securely her feet were planted on the ground, and how close by Nate was. Now, with her due date less than two weeks away, Eliot had found himself ardently aware of her discomfort, particularly the discomfort she lied about to Nate. Sophie watched as his eyes lingered, locked on hers.

"Eliot, what is the matter with you?" She hissed, not in the mood to be tested. "I have already expressed my disdain for you all staring at me like I'm going to explode."

"Well, you might," came Eliot's reply. Sophie rolled her eyes and adjusted herself in her seat. "Actually, I came to offer you a foot rub."

"Excuse me?"

"It's a nice gesture." He argued, gruffly.

"Fine," she conceded in surprise, "that would be nice. Lord knows I'm not getting one from Mr. Moody any time soon." She shot a glance at the stairs, referencing Nate. Her expression was notably softer than her tone.

Eliot picked up her feet and placed them in his lap. His thumbs found their way to the sole of her left foot. He seemed to win her over instantly, her eyes drifting shut and a small hum escaping her lips.

"Mmmm, Eliot that's wonderful…thank you." Her arms loosened their grip and gently coasted over her belly; she was letting her guard down.

"My pleasure," Eliot murmured earnestly. "Now why don't you tell me when the contractions started?"

Sophie's neck snapped to attention, her eyes now open wide at her friend before her.

"What?" Was all that fell out of her mouth.

"They're 13 minutes apart now but I want to know when they started."

Sophie noticed with absolute horror the smirk that played about Eliot's face as he turned his attention to her right heel. For a moment she thought about pushing that heel into his groin, and then she remembered to whom she was speaking.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Unphased, Eliot looked at his watch. His smirk widened and he continued to massage the grifter's feet in silence, counting down from thirty in his head. Sophie fixed her eyes on him like a hawk, knowing better than to assume this to be the end of the discussion.

"3…2…1" Eliot ended his counting aloud. Nothing happened. A few second passed, still nothing. As Sophie opened her mouth to pronounce him wrong, Eliot got a very special taste of victory: her toes slowly curling in his hand. "You are _so _busted, darlin'!"

"Eliot, you don't understand – it's not – " Sophie's ability to string together a sentence was seriously jeopardized by the low, aching pain in her abdomen.

"It's alright." Eliot soothed as he offered his hand.

Her face felt hot, her eyes suddenly swimming in new tears. She ignored his hand and forced a series of short exhales from her mouth. Once she could think again, she threw her feet to the floor and pushed herself forward on the couch, her voice low and sharp as nails:

"I am not in labor, do you understand me? I **cannot** be in labor. Not today." The tears she felt no control over threatened to betray her force.

"I do understand." Eliot's face remained calm as he leaned towards her, keeping their conversation contained.

"You do?" Her tone called bullshit.

"In all the years I've worked with Nate, there is only one day a year we never take a job. One day where, whether or not he's drinking that week, he downs a whole bottle of scotch. One day he doesn't talk to anyone or do anything, he just stares out that window and thinks. I had Hardison look it up once, but it wasn't that hard to figure out."

By this point, those dreaded tears that had begun building hours before had finally unleashed themselves on her cheeks. She stopped her mouth with a hand, hoping to contain the sobs that followed. Her inability to speak forced Eliot to say the words, though never having seen Sophie cry so candidly, he too had trouble pushing the sounds past his lips:

"It woulda been Sam's birthday."


	2. Chapter 2

_"It woulda been Sam's birthday."_

Eliot's pride at besting the grifter faded as soon as it had appeared. This fiercely protective force of nature before him could not stop crying. She was devastated.

"Sophie, I'm sorry – I shouldn't've… are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Of course. Hormones. I'm fine." She hastily worked to catch her breath as she shooed away still-falling tears.

"I get it, alright? I get it." Eliot said the only thing he could to appease her. "And I won't say anything to Nate as long as you talk to me, okay? Keep me in the loop. If you're looking out for him, someone's gotta be looking out for you."

He wanted to comfort her, but she still refused to take his hand. With a breath, he reached forward and tentatively placed a hand on her stomach. Unlike Parker, Eliot had not taken to the idea of invading Sophie's personal space simply because she was pregnant. He had felt the baby kick once, but other than that had kept a safe distance. The gesture seemed to calm Sophie, though, and he eased into it as he continued,

"Five minutes – when the contractions reach five minutes apart we're going to the hospital no matter what, understood?"

"Four minutes," Sophie challenged, gently folding her hands atop that of their team's protector.

"Six minutes, Sophie don't play with me."

"Four." She smiled and Eliot found himself breathing easier at the sight of her teeth.

"Fine. Four. Or if your water breaks!" He pointed a finger at her, catching the glossed over issue. She chuckled, wiping away the remaining few tears. "What? I read stuff too."

"Deal." She stuck out her hand. Eliot took it and paused –

"**And** you tell me if you need anything at all, you hear me?"

"Enough rules, already!" She saw the expression in his eyes. "Yes, Eliot. I promise."

"Atta girl." They shook hands, both smiling. As if on cue they heard the padding of socked feat on the stairwell. In an effort to act normal, their body language achieved the opposite.

"Has our bathroom always been that tiny?" Nate slurred slightly at Sophie. He took a step past the couch, then looked back at them as they clammed up. "Everything alright?" Nate asked, his brain half on the question and half swimming with scotch.

"Of course!" Sophie's too-cheerful tone was more addled with post-crying breathiness than she anticipated. Nate backtracked to the couch, a hand darting to his wife's shoulder as he sloppily knealt-collapsed behind her.

"What's wrong, Soph?" He asked; his voice suddenly quiet and eyes focused on her.

"Hormones, darling. Nothing more. Eliot was just cheering me up."

"You sure?"

"Oh yeah, had ourselves a little laugh, 'sall good." Eliot chimed in, wondered why Sophie couldn't feel the adoration filled way Nate looked at her.

"I'm glad." Nate then answered Eliot's unspoken question by returning to his seat by the window. It wasn't hard to see the agony in the way Sophie's eyes followed him.

Eliot looked at his watch – 3:36pm. This was about to be one hell of a long day.

As the day-that-wouldn't-end wore on, Sophie kept as quiet as possible, and Eliot became more and more exasperated with the futility of their agreement as he watched the contractions grow longer and closer together. Nate wasn't heard from again until just after 8.

"Hey, Eliot, though you said you were making birds or… wings and stuff for dinner?"

Eliot's attention was slowly pulled away from the nail marks Sophie was leaving on a throw pillow.

"Oh, yeah, sure. I'll get right on that." He never forgot to make dinner. Ever.

"Please, do make him eat something."

"_You've_ eaten nothing all day, if I recall." Eliot hissed as he walked by her.

"I can't eat, darling, I'm in _labor_, remember?" She taunted quietly.

"Yes, that's – I know – god woman, you are infuriating!" Eliot's face reddened as he walked to the kitchen. The sound of slamming doors followed. He promptly returned and placed his mouth by Sophie's ear. "6 minutes and counting… you witch." And back into the kitchen he went.

Just after the three of them had sat down to dinner, Sophie hastily excused herself to the bathroom, and made her way down the hall. Eliot got up to 'get more wings' and saw she didn't make it to her alleged destination. This contraction had snuck up on her, and Sophie had ducked into the pantry to grab onto a shelf before the throbbing won out against her. She saw him come in as the pain began to crescendo;

"I'm fine. Shut up."

"That must be the hormones talking, because you are not fine!" Despite his frustration, he kept his voice hushed and held her hand.

"Bugger off!"

"Do you know how pissed he's gonna be when he finds out you've been workin' through this on your own?"

"Let him be pissed, I don't give a –" She tucked her head to her chest as the pain swelled. "Fuck!"

"Woah there. Okay, I got you." Eliot pressed his palm into her back. Against her will, Sophie was immediately grateful Eliot had followed her from the dining room. The pain droned on and drew a whimper from the usually marble-strong art thief. "Jesus Sophie,"

"I should never have taught you to read people," She defended aimlessly, "This is none of your damn business."

He could understand her inner agony to a point, but she had clearly lost her mind. Eliot was beside himself, he was rarely this frustrated without being able to hit something.

"Oh, okay, my bad." Sarcasm felt like the next best thing to a punch, "I'll just go back to dinner and let you give birth by yourself in the closet!"

"That would be _GREAT_, thank you." She shot back.

"I'm getting Nate."

"Eliot, we agreed 4 minutes; that's light-years away."

"Sophie, your logic is fucked – you should be at the hospital between 5 and 10 minutes apart – you're barely at four and a half!"

"It's 9pm, if I can just hold on a little longer, I won't –"

"You can't 'hold on' Sophie!" He straightened himself up against the grifter, his tone rising with each word. "Get it together, woman! The timing has nothing to do with you. This baby clearly wants to be born today and there isn't a damn thing in hell you can do about it!"

"Piss off, you arrogant prick!" She screamed, leaving their hushed tone nowhere to be found.

"That's great, that's real good – yelling will definitely help you out right now."

"Maybe it will!" She shrieked impetuously.

With that, Nate appeared in the doorway to the pantry, speaking slowly, his eyes wide.

"What the hell is going on in here?"

A pregnant pause. Neither one could find their tongue.

Noticing Eliot was still holding onto her, Sophie made a reckless attempt; "Eliot made a pass at me. And when I turned him down, he threatened me."

Eliot rolled his eyes and ignored all previous clandestine intentions, "You think that's gonna make him _less_ angry?"

"Less angry at me, yes!" She shouted without thinking.

Nate was thoroughly confused, and though he attributed some of that to his beverage of choice for the day, he knew this moment was not one of a physical proposition.

"_What _are you two talking about?" He asked incredulously as he reached for Sophie's arm. Eliot stepped back to allow him space for the impending confrontation.

Nate looked into the eyes of his expectant wife; was that pain he saw? Fear? He knew he had kept to himself today, but they had talked about that… if she needed him, why didn't she… What could he have done to make her look at him that way? His voice turned gentle, heavy with concern. "Sophie, why would I possibly be angry at you?"

Sophie cursed the universe and everything in it as she felt the start of a severe contraction at her core; moments away from destroying the tenderness in her husband's eyes and, if her fear was correct, her marriage right along with it. She ignored the fresh beads of sweat forming on her brow, she pushed away the feeling of lightheadedness that overtook her, she fought the new tears already assaulting her face full force. All she could think was 'no, not today' as she weakly stumbled towards the door. Nate wrapped an arm around her waist. "I have to go – please – don't – " Too late. The contraction ripped through her like chainsaw; the stabbing radiated from her back through her stomach and down to her legs which immediately gave out beneath her. A deep grunt escaped her lips; she instinctively clutched at her husband.

Nate's shock at the situation froze him for a moment. Eliot landed beside the pair in an instant and helped to hold Sophie upright.

"Sophie – " The word fell from Nate's lips as he began to understand what must be happening.

"Breathe, damnit," Eliot demanded of his friend. "We talked about this!"

As she took a breath, Nate felt Sophie's body begin to dissolve into sobs around him.

"I'm sorry Nate," she cried into his shoulder, much to Nate's disbelief "I'm so sorry."

"Sophie, sweetheart," he tried to talk to her, his incredulity growing with each word. Feeling her chest unevenly heaving against his own, he hugged her closer. "Breathe, Love… in and out; just like that… there you go. There you go." The two men carefully lowered Sophie to the floor. Eliot sat beside her, and Nate knelt before her, tears of his own obscuring his vision as he tried to catch those falling on her cheek. "Oh Sophie, it's alright. It's okay, Soph."

"Nate?" Her voice was small and full of dread.

"Yes, love?"

"We have to go to the hospital." She wept, holding on to his hand for dear life. Nate just smiled at the adorable obviousness of her remark.

"Yeah, I think we do," he smiled, his thumb tracing her cheekbone.

"But today, I didn't want you to – "

"Shhh, shhh, today's not about me, Soph. Not at all. I'm a complete ass."

"No, you didn't… it's not fair."

"Few things are, Sophie." Nate beamed down at her. "Why didn't you say something?"

"I… " And as she trailed off, he knew.

"I am so sorry, Sophie. I never wanted you to… I'm sorry."

"I didn't want you to have to – and today - "

"Well unfortunately this isn't really your call, love." He folded his fingers around the back of her neck.

"I don't like things being out of my control," She confessed simply.

"Me either, Soph." He leaned in and planted a sturdy kiss between her eyes. "But we're together. We can do anything, okay?" He let his forehead press into hers. "Hell, we already have."

"Okay."

"Good." He squeezed her hand and she squeezed his back. "Now let's get you up and out the door, shall we? Bag and pillow are in the hall closet, need coats…" He paused as he stood up, "and Eliot, you're gonna have to drive." Nate added with one hand on his forehead, trying to steady the still spinning room around him.

"I cannot believe you're smashed for this," His wife remarked with a half chuckle. Sophie Devereaux was regaining strength.

"I kind of hate myself right now," Nate agreed, knowing he would have to deal with all those nasty dark feelings of guilt, devastation, anger and sorrow later, but at the moment; "but I love you."

The men helped Sophie up, out the door and into the car. After they closed the door behind her, Nate turned to Eliot, his breath visible in the cold.

"Thanks… for keeping her safe."

"'s what I do." He said simply. "She's stubborn as hell, though. Didn't listen to me for a minute."

"Really? Hadn't noticed." Nate's grin was short lived as he heard an agonized groan fill the car. As he hopped around to the other side door, he looked briefly at the stars, "Here we go."


	3. Chapter 3

_Nate looked briefly at the stars, "Here we go."_

"Hey, hey," Nate crooned to Sophie as he tucked himself next to her in the backseat, creating a cocoon of winter coats. "I'm here. I've got you." His left hand settled warmly on her belly, the pads of his fingers melting into the skin beneath her shirt. His unoccupied hand wove itself into her hair. "That's my girl," he whispered, breathing along with her.

Eliot glanced in the rear view mirror, waiting a moment for the car to warm. As the contraction subsided, Sophie's relaxation became palpable with Nate beside her.

"Told ya so." Eliot muttered under his breath, then louder he added, "Hospital in 9." The announcement was paired with a rev of the engine. The couple in the backseat braced themselves as he took off – the hospital was at least 25 minutes away if anyone but Eliot was driving.

Nate noted the time – 9:22pm; there was no way they were going to make it til midnight. He breathed in the scent of Sophie's hair, hoping it would calm him down as he spoke. "Sam would have loved to share his birthday with his baby brother." He pressed his forehead against her temple, an arm protectively around her waist.

They drove a moment in silence after that. Sophie lifted her eyes to meet Nate's.

"What if I'm too old for this?" She wondered quietly, asking him but not expecting an answer. "You're definitely too old for this," she jabbed to cover up the palpable vulnerability in the space.

"4 minutes," Nate looked at his watch, "You good?"

"Yes." She replied. "I think so."

"Oka- " Before Nate could get the word out, Sophie grabbed at his shoulders, as though for support before a fall.

"No, definitely not…not okay. Oh my god!"

Nate held onto her and coached her as she chased the pain with breath. A low groan slipped from her lips as the pain peaked.

"Let it out, Soph." He offered her the only solace he could.

With fingers dug into Nate's biceps and teeth clenched, Sophie took a jagged breath and then let loose a vicious growl that soon transformed into a scream. Nate and Eliot might have minded the noise if it hadn't painted a terribly clear picture of the pain she was in. When the ache ebbed, she looked up to find her husband in tears.

"Why - the hell - are _you_ crying?"

"This is gonna happen a lot today, Sophie. Might as well get used to it."

"Oh no –" The back of her hand suddenly pressed to her mouth.

"Again?" Nate's eyes went colossal; that was less than a minute apart.

"No," Was all she could release from her lips before needing to replace her hand. She looked at him and Nate recognized it in an instant.

"Eliot, pull over!" He kept his eyes on Sophie.

"We're almost there!" Eliot argued.

"I said pull the car over!"

"Okay, hold on!" He conceded.

"**Now**!" Nate thrust his arm out to protect his wife against the screeching stop that followed, and then flung the door open not moments before Sophie got sick.

"That's it. You're okay," he rubbed her back, "you're okay." Nate removed the hair tie that lay around Sophie's wrist and tied back her hair. She vomited again. "That's totally normal, Soph, it's all okay." He returned to rubbing her back as she spit onto the sidewalk.

She turned to face him, still pale. Propped up between the edge of the door and the passenger headrest, her eyes read of exhaustion, fear, and a complete lack of control.

"You're okay," Nate hummed as he gathered her up in his arms and guided her head onto his thigh. She curled her feet up onto the seat beside her with care. He reached over and pulled the door closed.

"If you tell me I'm 'okay' one more time…" She threatened quietly from his lap. Nate had no response – he just combed his fingers softly through the hair on the crown of her head.

"We good?" Eliot asked, slightly shaken as he found only horrifying things from his past to compare to what he saw Sophie experiencing now.

Nate hastily ran a hand through his own hair, trying to keep it together. "Yeah, we're good."

As they rounded the corner of the hospitals cross street, Nate felt Sophie's body seize up again. Her feet pressed against the car door, her nails dug into the leather seat. Nate watched with a hand firmly on her hip as she moaned and arched her back; an action he used to recognize as a reaction to pleasure and it was now a reaction to equally intense pain. It hurt to watch. He finally released the breath he had been holding as her knees resumed their bend and her spine, its alignment. At that moment Eliot's car came screaming into the ambulance bay.

"We're here." Nate hummed in the backseat.

"No shit, Sherlock." Came the abrasive reply.

Eliot opened the curb-side door to help Sophie out of the car. He took her hands and, with Nate's hand on her back, they managed to get her to her feet, both men offering gentle words of encouragement.

"THAT'S IT!" Sophie shouted. "Both of you – shut the _fuck_ up!"

"Sophie," Nate tried to object.

"I'm gonna –" Eliot took off towards the door. Sophie unleashed her fury on Nate.

"I am so sick of you imbeciles treating me like I'm made of bloody glass! I wasn't made of porcelain when I stole the Dagger of Aqu'abi, and I'm not made of porcelain now!"

"Well, technically you didn't steal the dagger, –"

"Say one more word and I will fucking shoot you! And this time I won't miss."

"You don't say the word 'fuck' very often," Nate noted with amusement, "It suites you." He smirked at his wife/arch-nemesis/partner-in-crime.

"I hate you."

"Dually noted."

Eliot returned at that moment with a wheelchair and offered it up to Sophie. At the sight of it, she snorted in disgust.

"I'm not getting in that thing! Are you joking?"

"Sophie, sit down. You'll feel better," Nate begged. She scoffed again. "Fine,** I'll** feel better. How's that?"

"I'm not an invalid, thanks."

"You wanna walk in their by yourself? Go right ahead!" Nate's words were overshadowed by the tight grip he still had on Sophie's waist.

"How chivalrous of you, darling!"

Fed up with the revolving door of empty threats, Eliot grabbed Sophie's wrist;

"Sophie sit your ass down or I will break your fucking arm." Sophie let out a laugh.

"I dare you."

"Guys! The drunk man thinks we should act like adults for two seconds."

With seemingly no counter-arguments left, Sophie begrudgingly let Nate help her into the chair.

"This is awful." She said.

"You'll thank me in…" Nate checked his watch as he pushed her towards the front desk, "45 seconds."

The hitter entered the maternity ward first, followed closely by the grifter and the mastermind. They were immediately greeted by a bubbly triage nurse in teddy bear printed scrubs and a rainbow scrunchi.

"Well hello there! My name is Nurse Tabitha. Did you call in to pre-register the mommy today?"

Nate and Eliot just looked at each other.

"Yes..." Eliot said slowly.

"Well isn't that just great! May I have the last name of our mommy-to-be?"

Nate was sure he heard the letter 'F' emerge from his wife's lips. He wasn't sure which 4-letter word she was going to say, but either one was sure to get them in a whole bunch of trouble.

"James." Nate said quickly. "Ah - Sophie James."

"Oh goody, hold on one moment and let me just pull up your file, Ms. Sophie James!"

Although she had vehemently fought against him, Nate decided that giving birth was not the ideal time to uphold an alias, so they had settled on their 'real' first names. As the next contraction started, Sophie proved him right.

"Ow. God. Nate!" She hissed through clenched teeth; one hand on her belly, the other on the edge of the wheelchair.

"I'm here." As he knelt by her, taking her hand, he decided that was all he should say.

"Alright, Mrs. James, your private room is all ready and I think you'll just love every inch of it!" The nurse returned with a chart in hand. She looked at Sophie, "Oh, you just breathe right on through that contraction, you sweet little thing. It'll be over in no time!"

"Eliot," Sophie gasped. He crouched beside her.

"Whaddaya need, darlin'?"

"Kill her."

Eliot laughed hard to cover her words, but it seemed the nurse had missed the request.

"Oh she's so funny when she's …in pain…" Eliot had no idea what words had just fallen out of his mouth.

"You said our room was ready?" Nate refocused the group.

"Oh yes, right this way. Mr. James I presume?"

"Yeah," Nate turned to Sophie, "Keep breathing. I'm gonna get you to bed, okay?" He kissed her temple and stood up.

"Well, Mr. James, isn't this just the very best day of your life?!" Nurse Tabitha squealed as she led them down the hall.

"Yeah." Nate repeated.

"I'm just gonna ask you two a few questions so I can get Dr. Branch up to speed, okay? So dear, can you tell me when the early labor started?"

"About 10 this morning," Eliot answered as Sophie still struggled to catch her breath. Nate's stomach churned.

"Okey dokey…and how far apart are the contractions now?" Nate was grateful he knew the answer to this one.

"About 3:45 apart, 50 or so seconds long."

"Oh my, we are certainly getting close, aren't we!" There was an unenthused murmur of agreement throughout the group.

"And has her water broken?" Nate's stomach knotted up again as he had to look to Eliot.

"No, it hasn't." Eliot said.

"Yes it has." Sophie corrected. The two men stopped and stared.

"Oh?" The nurse continued slowly, unsure of what was going on. "And when was that, dearie?"

"At about 7:30 tonight." Nate was sure he was going to hurl.

"God DAMNIT Sophie!" Eliot cursed and hit the wall.

"Oh my…um… let's try and keep our words mommy and baby friendly, okey dokey friends?"

"Eliot, cut the self-righteous bullshit!" Sophie spat in return as they reached the room.

"I, um," The nurse was visibly flustered and equally confused. "I will be right back with – and the doctor. Here we are." She scurried away.

"We had a **deal**, Sophie! What the hell were you thinking?!"

"Sophie, you should have told me. What if something had happened?"

"I know more about childbirth that you two seem to think. I'm fine. The baby is fine. Now, anyone care to help me into bed?"

Reluctantly and trying unsuccessfully to suppress their respective anger and frustration, Nate helped Sophie undress and Eliot texted an update to Hardison. They reconvened to help her into bed.

"Can we please focus on the task at hand?" She asked, somewhat rationally. "We _are_ bringing a child into the world this evening."

"Fine. Yes." Came the replies.

"Thank you." She settled back into the pillows behind her, both hands protectively over her stomach. At that moment, Nurse Tabitha burst through the door; her cheery disposition seemingly reinvigorated.

"Alrighty new friends! I'm going to take your vital signs, Mrs. James, and then Dr. Branch will be in to have a look-see at what's going on down there in babyville!"

"Eliot,"

"Sophie-"

"Kill her."


	4. Chapter 4

The doctor had come, pronounced both mother and child as doing just fine, and left them once again with Nurse Tabitha to discuss pain relief options. Needless to say, it wasn't going well.

"What part of **no **did you misunderstand?" Sophie had never had so much trouble manipulating someone before.

"I just want you to be really sure, Mrs. James."

"Do I look unsure?" Each word dripped from her mouth like poisoned honey.

"Well lot's of first time mommies-"

"Alright," Sophie slammed the brakes, "we are not going to use the word 'mommy' in this room anymore, do you understand?"

The younger woman was silent.

"Second of all, I have brought dictators and kings to their knees, so I promise I know what I say when I tell you that I do not need a _fucking_ epidural!"

"So that's a firm no?" Nurse Tabitha asked meekly.

"Correct." Sophie's breath hitched in her throat as the word and a new contraction surfaced simultaneously. "-god!" Her body writhed into new levels of contortion. Nate's brow furrowed as his hand-holding proved fruitless. Seeing the couple losing control of the situation, Eliot hustled to her side and claimed her free hand.

"We've got you, darlin'." Eliot whispered, as much to Nate as to Sophie.

"Well aren't you three just the cutest little cutie-pies I've ever seen!" The nurse chimed in, once again hopeful for her new friends.

"Eliot, I - mean it."

"I know ya do, I'll kill her in a minute," Eliot whispered to appease her.

"So much love in one little room!" Tabitha beamed from the foot of the bed.

"Get her the hell out!" Sophie snapped.

Eliot squeezed her hand before setting it down. He took a breath and turned to their 'guardian.' Taking in her appearance he crossed the room slowly to the horrified looking nurse.

"Don't mind her, darlin'," He began, amping up his usually mild southern twang. She can be a bit feisty."

"I understand; babies have that affect on people."

"Yes indeed. Ma'am, this may be an inappropriate time to say this, but you have the most breathtaking blue eyes I've ever seen."

"Oh…well, that's so kind of you…"

"I've been thinking it since I first saw you –you know they say that eyes are the window to the soul."

"I – I have heard that. I love poetry."

"Yeah? Me too. Who's your favorite poet?"

"Dr. Seuss."

Eliot was sure he died a little inside.

"Oh yeah… he's just… the _best_."

"Right?! The Lorax really speaks to me."

"I'm sure it does…"

"Well I have another patient to tend to, but… maybe we can talk more about poetry later?"

"I deeply, deeply hope so." He stuck out his hand, "Eliot." She stared at him starry eyed.

"Tabitha. But my friends call me Tabby, like the cat."

"Meow."

She giggled and slowly backed away, so smitten that she didn't notice the chair behind her until she bumped into it. When she was out of sight, Eliot immediately dropped character.

"You OWE me! Ugh. I need to wash the stupid off my hand."

"Dr. Seuss?" Nate repeated, incredulous. "She was serious!"

"And seriously, I'm gonna go wash my hand."

"Thank you," Sophie spoke softly with her eyes closed as Eliot left.

"How we doing?" Nate asked, softly brushing a lock of hair from her forehead.

"Getting there," Sophie noted.

"You need anything?" He let his hand cradle her head for a moment.

"I'm alright." She exhaled and looked up at him.

He got lost for a moment in her wide chocolate eyes.

"You're going to be an incredible mother, Sophie."

"Well I have been raising four very large children for the past seven years, so." Nate chuckled.

"That you have, Soph."

Sophie took a deliberate breath.

"Nate, I know how you feel about hospitals, today of all days,"

"Sophie,"

"I've asked Eliot and he's happy to 'tag in' as it were -"

"Sophie, shut up." Nate said with a smile.

She glared at her husband.

"Hey, those are your words." He took her hand. "Stop trying to take care of me. You're right, you've always taken care of everyone else. Please, today, let me take care of you."

"It's Sam's birthday and I'm forcing you to be in a hospital." She lamented, too tired for pretense.

"Sophie," his tone turned serious, "I'd travel to the depths of hell if that's where you needed me."

The corners of her mouth tilted upwards.

"Orpheus and Eurydice?"

"Exactly! A great love story!"

"Have you ever read the end of that story?" Nate paused.

"Ah. Fair point. But ya know, it was a metaphor - sentiment –"

"Nate. My god."

"Okay, so I'm not an expert on mythology,"

"Hand, you idiot!" Nate obliged and immediately noticed a difference in the way her body was responding to the pain.

"What is it?" It took a moment before she was able to spit out the answer.

"I want to push."

"You want to _what_?"

The contraction raged on, drawing a cry from the grifter.

"PUSH, you daft pig!" She hollered back at him, squeezing the life out of his hand.

"Push. Oh boy. Okay. That's – that's okay. It's okay…"

"NATHAN!"

"Okay, okay –" Nate tried to gather his spinning thoughts.

"SAY 'OKAY' ONE MORE TIME!"

"Alright, you need to push." He refocused; that four letter word felt like new curse in his mouth. "And I need to get the doctor," Nate concluded. Sophie cried out again in pain.

"If you come back with that god forsaken nurse - "

"You be quiet and, and breathe!" Nate commanded and rushed out the door, nearly running over the Nurse in question. "Hi, yeah, um,"

"Howdy do there, Mr. James!"

"My wife um – she says she needs to p-push, so if you could go – ah – do something? That'd be great." He fumbled.

"Okey dokey then! Let's go have a look see, almost-daddy!"

Nate cringed at her words as she hopped past him, and wondered briefly if he should have tried delivering the baby himself instead.

A shriek greeted them as they entered the room.

"Nathan Ford, _WHAT DID I SAY_?!"

"Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?" Nate dodged the question and returned to Sophie's side, wrapping an arm around her. The nurse stood at the foot of the bed.

"Well your instincts are right on cue, mommy! I'll go get the doctor and then you can push to your heart's content!"

"Oh goody." Sophie muttered as the pain died down. She rolled onto her side, facing her husband, searching for a moment of repose.

"You're handling the pain really well, Mrs. James. Most mommas are a complete wreck by this point! I guess you didn't need the epidural after all!" Nurse Tabitha continued to try and build rapport with this new breed of expectant mother.

"Well, this one's **shot** me before, so I'm well versed."

Nate's eyes went as wide the nurse's.

"Um, hah, just a – ya know, a joke…" Nate offered, weakly, "…inside joke."

"Right" Tabitha responded, all but sprinting towards the hall.

"Sophie, sweetheart," Nate began gently, a hand on her hip, "they're going to send me to prison if you keep saying things like that."

"You seemed to like it just fine the first time."

Eliot returned from the bathroom and manufactured a smile as he passed his new love interest in the hallway.

"How we doing in here?"

"Still alive," Sophie commented dryly.

"You need anything?"

"I'd love one of your backrubs, actually." She asked quietly.

"Of course, darlin." Eliot crossed to the bed and gently worked on the muscles in her lower back; these massages had helped Sophie through much of the past nine months. Nate was initially jealous of the pair's routine, but after a miserably failed attempt to replicate Eliot's technique, resulting in his wife spending the night at the hitter's apartment to realign her spine, he had bandaged his bruised ego and moved on.

"She's gonna push soon." Nate's oddly robotic voice broke the silence, his hands pushed repeatedly through the air as though they were keeping him afloat. "Which is okay, because, you know, that's what happens. And then we're going to have a – ah – a baby."

"Flail much?" Eliot rolled his eyes.

"He's panicking." Sophie murmured.

"I'm not panicking, Sophie –"

"Definitely panicking." Eliot agreed.

"Which is odd, since _I'm_ the one giving birth."

"That is odd."

"I'm sitting right here, guys." Nate defended momentarily before his voice weakened. "And still not panicking."

A groan came from the bed; Sophie clawed at her husband's shirt, searching for a way to relieve the pressure. Eliot's massage melted into a soft hand on her back, Nate gathered up all her fingers. At that moment, the doctor walked in.

"Alright Mr. and Mrs. James," He began as he settled himself at the end of the bed, "let's have a baby!"

After another hour of agony, Luke Sebastian Ford was born at 12:02am, Friday December 4th.

"You're amazing, Sophie," Nate whispered, "Absolutely incredible."

The nurse placed the baby on his mother's chest; "Meet your son."

Without a sound, Sophie enveloped the tiny squirming boy in her arms.

"He's healthy?" Nate blurted out.

"Perfectly healthy. 6lb, 11oz. 19 inches long."

"Hello, beauty," Sophie hummed. Nate curled his arm around his wife and gently fingered his son's small foot.

"Do we have a name?" The doctor asked.

"Luke," Sophie replied, before pressing a kiss into the dark fuzz covering the infant's head. "Oh, Luke. Hello my darling." She pressed him to her cheek, Nate pressed his forehead to her neck.

"Sophie," Nate murmured into her skin, "it's tomorrow." A satisfied sigh fell from her lips as she understood. She felt her husband squeeze her tight and kiss her collarbone.

"Happy birthday, my love." She whispered, barely audible. Her shoulder felt wet – Nate was crying.

"Hey momma," Eliot's voice was silky and low from the doorway. The new parents looked up; Sophie rested her head against a pillow, Nate only half bothered to wipe his eyes.

"Come here." Sophie crooned to their protector. Cautiously, Eliot stepped into the room. "Meet your godson."

Eliot's eyebrows shot up and his hesitation vanished. He propelled himself forward and knelt beside the bed.

"He's so tiny." The hitter purred, "I gotta keep him safe; he's so small." His eyes drifted upwards; he had never seen Sophie so peaceful. Nate smiled wide as he relinquished a finger to his son's grip. "I will keep him safe. I swear; I promise."


End file.
